Darkened Shadow
by thewindinthemeadow
Summary: Sam practically went insane when Gabriel killed Dean in Mystery Spot and he stayed dead. What if while he was on that revenge driven hunt, he found out the truth about who Gabriel was? Dark!Sam, Hurt!Gabriel.
1. Chapter I

**I'm just looking back at this story after a year. Two days short of a year, really. Anyway, it's been a long time. The writing seems ok, so I'm just going to refresh the author's notes.**

 **Warnings will all be here at the start. If I have to update them I'll note at the start of the new chapter that you should come back here and recheck the warnings. I'm not warning for canon typical things. PM me if something on the warning list is a problem for you and you want to see if you could read portions of the story and skip that bit. I'd be perfectly happy to write a brief description of what happens.**

 **Sexual assault. Not full rape, just anal fingering.**

 **Dub con. Does not include penetrative sex.**

 **Sexual situations including someone crushing on their captor (not Stockholm Syndrome; the crush started before the captivity).**

I didn't mean anything by it. It was just a prank. A trick. A joke! I'm the trickster, I should be able to trick people without it getting this serious. Maybe I went too far when I targeted the Winchesters. They had tried to kill me, but it was just their job. I liked Sam, right from the start. I think that's why I targeted him for the prank I'm currently working on.

Sam's mad at me. OK, I deserve some wrath. I did kill his brother- over a hundred times. But I always brought Dean back to life! It was just a silly prank! And then I killed Dean one last time and left him dead. So, Sam hates me and is hunting me. At first it was funny, just another joke. But I picked to prank Sam because he's so kind and gentle. I just like being around him.

And now Sam's changed, and I wish I didn't have to watch. I don't want to be around him anymore. Sam, the gentle, compassionate Sam Winchester, creeps me out to the point where I don't want to watch him. I wish I'd never started this prank. He was supposed to handle Dean's death. He was supposed to recover. But it's not happening.

Eventually I couldn't stand waiting anymore. I called Sam, pretending to be Bobby. I told him I'd found a way to catch the trickster, and he agreed to meet me. I had a pretend version of his friend Bobby waiting for him. I wanted to test Sam, to find out if he was truly as dark as he looked. He thoroughly scared me in two minutes of conversation, and he thought he was talking to his friend.

And then Sam was willing to kill Bobby. Bobby had been a father to him. And he stabbed the illusion with a bloody stake. If I'd really been a trickster and that had been me, it would've killed me. And it certainly would've killed Bobby. Sam had guessed that it wasn't really Bobby, but he hadn't been sure. And it was a risk he was willing to take.

That chilled me to the bone, and archangels don't get cold easily. I had to find a way to fix this. Sam wasn't supposed to behave like this. I let the illusion melt away and appeared before Sam. I summoned the stake, just so he wouldn't get any ideas. For a few moments, the conversation seemed to be going ok.

Sam broke off in the middle and started some Latin spell. It was some kind of revealing spell, about weapons or something. My Latin's rusty. And then I realized something scary. The spell had been tailored to affect archangels. This was bad. This was really bad.

I was too shocked to fly away like I should've. How had Sam found out who I was? That shouldn't've been possible. He couldn't know. Nobody was supposed to know! I wasn't paying attention, but I noticed when the spell forced my wings to do that visible shadow on the wall thing. If Sam had had any doubt about who I was, it was gone now.

I backed away from him. I was about to fly away, but then he was holding my own angel blade to my throat. I froze. "How'd you get that?" I asked, trying not to look scared.

Sam smirked, unimpressed. "Bring Dean back," he ordered, pressing the edge of the blade against my skin.

"Whoa, whoa," I gasped. "OK. Put the knife down, and I'll get your precious Dean-o back."

"You're lying," Sam said immediately. "That's what you promised last time."

"But-" I paused for a moment, trying to come up with a convincing argument. "I'll bring him back." OK, yeah, so that wasn't the most helpful thing to say. I don't think well when I'm feeling this threatened.

"I don't believe you," Sam said. He pushed forward with the blade and I took a step back. He pushed forward again, and I didn't realize what he was doing until he had me backed against a wall.

"Please," I begged, gasping. "It was just a stupid prank." I tried not to think about how easily this situation could end in my death. "I-if you kill me, your brother will stay dead. Just- just let me go, and I can bring you back to that Wednesday! It'll be like none of this ever happened. Please, Sam."

"What, so you can kill Dean again?" Sam asked angrily. "Not this time. I'm going to make sure you never hurt anyone ever again."

"Wait!" I pleaded. "D-don't kill me, please! You can't." Unfortunately, he could, and we both knew it. I didn't want to die. Sleeping forever in the empty sounded terrible. My eyes filled involuntarily with tears.

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you," Sam said. His eyes promised something worse. I didn't want to even think about what he could be talking about.

I shut my eyes against whatever he was planning, as though that could help anything. I didn't think through the fact that I was an archangel, or I could've just shoved him off me and flown away. I really need to work on not losing my head in a crisis.

Sam sliced the skin on my throat and collected my grace in a bottle. I freaked out and started struggling when I felt it start to leave, but by then it was too late. I was little more than human, and Sam was a lot stronger than me. I should've picked a taller vessel or exercised. Something.

The last of my grace left my body, and Sam let me go. I should've tried to run, but I didn't know what it would be like to lose my grace. I knew, theoretically, what it would mean, but experiencing it was a million times more horrible than I'd imagined.

I collapsed to the ground like a rag doll, overwhelmed by just existing on a near human level. Everything seemed so vivid and yet dull and confusing. I couldn't process what was going on at all. And I couldn't handle the wealth of information that was all mixed up with my suddenly much lower processing skills. It was just impossible. How did humans do this? I covered my ears with my hands and shut my eyes, desperately trying to make the whole thing stop.

Sam grabbed my wrists and tried to pull my hands away from my head. I tried to fight him, wildly, like a caged animal. I think I was yelling something, but I'm not sure what it was. I made a break for the door, but Sam punched me once in the back of the head. He knocked me unconscious.

…

I woke up in a room somewhere. I was lying on my stomach on a bed, and my hands were cuffed to the sides of the headboard. Normally, I wouldn't mind that position particularly. It's not like I haven't bottomed in a BDSM situation before, and it's not like handcuffs are Fifty Shades of Grey creepy or anything.

But normally I could break those handcuffs in a second if I wanted. And now I couldn't. It was an entirely different situation, because I didn't have any control. I'd never been so helpless. I pulled on the cuffs a little, but the edges were sharp and I hurt my wrists. I didn't seem to be getting anywhere, so I gave up. There was no point in deliberately injuring myself for no reason.

I tried to turn sideways to see what was in rest of the room, but I couldn't. The angle my arms were yanked up at made moving almost impossible, and I was weak. I was so confident in my power as an archangel that I hadn't worried about the atrophy in my vessel's muscles. And now not working out or doing anything physically taxing for thousands of years was catching up with me. I dropped my head down onto the pillow, struggling to hold back tears. This was just too much.

And then came the crowning indignity. I couldn't even hide my face in the pillow properly, because I needed to breathe. I got dizzy and had to lift my head up to where the air was. This was a nightmare. I'd never imagined having to _breathe_ before.

I gave up on trying to hold back the tears and just sobbed helplessly. There was no point trying to be strong against my captor when I felt so weak. It wasn't going to work anyway. Sam might as well find out how much he'd hurt me. So I let myself cry for a while.

And then my legendary short attention span kicked in and I got bored with crying. I sniffled a little and choked back my remaining tears. Being basically human couldn't be that bad, right? And there had to be something interesting to do. I awkwardly wiped some of the snot and tears on my face onto the pillow, but it wasn't very effective. That was weird. I'd never had to think about cleaning my face after crying before.

This was the point where I wanted to sit up, but it wasn't exactly doable. I could probably kneel with my arms like this, but that wasn't what I wanted. It would look weird and leave me in a sexually vulnerable position I didn't want to be in. It was strange for me, being afraid of a sexual position like that. I just felt so fragile and weak that stuff that was usually a turn on was terrifying.

So that left me struggling to peer sideways around my arms and coax the blobs of color to form coherent shapes. Seeing was still hard for me without my grace. I'd lost so much. The bland colors just wouldn't put together a coherent picture. I couldn't figure out what anything was. I squinted at a purple blob and guessed it was an armchair, maybe with someone in it.

If that was a person though, it'd have to be someone very tall… Oh, no. Sam had been here watching me the entire time. He was like, six eight or something ghastly like that, so it could easily be him. I quickly looked away. Maybe he hadn't noticed I was awake or something. OK, so there was honestly no chance of that.

I hadn't been exactly quiet when I was crying earlier. I hid my face in the pillow, hoping he'd go away. And then I needed to breathe again. I didn't wanna lift my head. So what if I suffocated a little? At least Sam wouldn't- uh… what was the point of hiding my face in the pillow? Right, I was embarrassed. Better to suffer from dizziness than face Sam while embarrassed.

I felt like my head was spinning, even though I was lying still. My throat felt tight and burned. I lifted my head and gasped in air. The dizzy feeling faded pretty quickly, but I was still breathing heavily. This felt so awkward. Had I turned into a human preteen or something, instead of an adult? How was this _so_ embarrassing?

Or could this be about that little crush I'd been harboring for Sam since the day I'd first seen him? It wasn't a big deal at the time. It just made me flaunt my created girls a little more and turn my head so Sam couldn't see me so easily whenever I felt nervous. Whatever this was was a big deal. Any possible romantic interest I'd had in him should've been vanquished when he captured me, not increased. Although there was the little, unimportant fact that he'd handcuffed me to a bed. It was certainly a suggestive choice.

"Don't choke yourself," Sam said. His tone was torn between anger and amusement. He always sounded angry lately.

"Not- used to- breathing," I panted.

He snorted. "Pathetic."

I flinched. What had I done to him? How did he get so twisted? He was from Lucifer's bloodline. Maybe going evil just reigned in him like it had in my fallen brother. My eyes filled with tears again at the thought.


	2. Chapter II

"Can't you just let me go?" I begged, tugging against the handcuffs and ignoring the pain that shot through my wrists. "How is this even helping Dean?"

"Dean's dead," Sam snapped. "And you killed him."

"He was dying anyway!" I argued. "I just called the deal early."

"I would've found a way to break it," Sam said. "There was enough time. And you took that away."

"It- it wasn't breakable," I protested. "Dean's dead, ok? Just let me go."

"No," Sam said firmly.

"Why not?" I demanded. "What good does tying me up do anyone?! Since you stole my grace it's not like I can do anything anyway." I started by yelling and ended in a choked sob.

"Revenge, Gabriel," Sam said. "This is revenge. It's all I have left."

I flinched. Then I realized what Sam had called me. "How do you know my name?" I asked weakly.

"You should be more careful who you trust," Sam told me.

I groaned. "Which one of those stupid pagans snitched on me?"

"Sleipnir," Sam informed me proudly. "He broke like a tissue paper piñata before I even started torturing him."

"I'll kill him," I seethed, trying to cover my grief from the betrayal with anger.

"He's already dead," Sam said. "I killed him as soon as he'd told me your name, your species, your rank, how to capture you, how to torture you, how to break you and how to kill you." Sam's voice got scarier and more threatening with every word.

I trembled, trying unsuccessfully to choke back a sob.

Sam chuckled darkly. "It doesn't look like the last few will be too hard."

I tried desperately to get mad. If I could be angry, maybe I could stay away from breaking. I was just so scared, and then with the continuing nightmare feel from losing my grace… I couldn't seem to get angry. I was just too miserable and afraid.

I had to do something. If I just lay there crying Sam wouldn't even have to break me. Anything was better than the horrible emptiness and pain that wouldn't let go of me. So I struck out at Sam in the only way left to me. I kicked him.

The angle was terrible, and my leg barely reached. I didn't hit him very hard at all. Still, I got my point across. I was not broken, and I was not breaking anytime soon. He could kill me, sure, but I still had control in my own head. Oh no. He could kill me! I forgot that part.

My lip trembled again. Why was this happening? I'd just been toying with a couple of hunters. I did that all the time, and none of them had ever found out who I was, much less captured me like this. I knew Sam was special; he was Lucifer's vessel. But he was still just a human! This shouldn't be happening.

"I'll have to punish you for that," Sam growled.

I'd only kicked him! It couldn't even have hurt him much.

"Let me go!" I yelled. "You can't do this! I'm an archangel, not some monster for you to torture!" Well, I got mad.

"You became a monster when you started killing people," Sam said. "And now you're nothing."

I winced as his statement hit me closer to home than I'd like. I was the youngest and smallest archangel. Heaven's runaway that everybody had given up on, if they'd ever cared. I clenched my jaw. Just because I'd lost didn't mean I should make Sam's life easy.

"I'll n-never be nothing," I told him. "Even graceless, I'm still G-gabriel, and nothing can ch-change that. So go ahead and try." I tried to sound braver than I felt. I'm not sure how much it worked.

"Fine," Sam said. He pushed me over onto my side, the awkward angle putting painful pressure on my wrists. I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

Sam undid the buckle on my jeans and started pulling them down. I tried to jerk away from him, but there was nowhere to go. All I did was make my wrists sting.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I demanded, my voice betraying the absolute terror I felt.

Sam turned his head to look at me, and for a split second I saw a trace of the compassion that used to always be there in his eyes. And then it was gone. His face went back to being the darkened mask of anger and bitterness he'd put on after Dean's death.

"I'm spanking you," he said coolly.

I collapsed in relief. "Oh, thank goodness. Wait, you're spanking me? What the- why?"

Sam didn't answer. And I honestly didn't care all that much. As long as he wasn't going to rape me, it couldn't be that bad. I mean, it could be bad, but I'd still feel relieved. At least for the first five minutes. I'm kind of undermining my argument, aren't I? Oh well. I do that a lot.

Sam dragged my pants down to my ankles and started untying my shoelaces. I was too focused on the pain in my wrists from being tilted sideways to resist. Pain feels different now that I'm basically human. It was more painful, but a lot more manageable as an archangel.

Sam got my shoes off and took away my pants. I shivered. It was colder in the room than I was used to, or maybe I was just more temperature dependent as a human. That was probably it. I could sense temperature as an archangel, but it didn't seem important and certainly wasn't uncomfortable. Absolute zero to having a picnic in the middle of a star, it was all just a game. And now a slightly chilly room was enough to make my whole body shake. Oh, how the mighty have fallen! OK, so I'm being a drama queen. Sue me.

Then Sam went to pull my boxers down. For all I'd been expecting it, I panicked. I flipped sideways and fell off the bed. Most of my weight yanked on my wrists, and those abysmal handcuffs dug horribly into my abused skin. I screamed. That _hurt_.

Sam was quick to pick me up, taking the weight off my wrists. I almost forgot I was mad at him for a moment. He set me down on the bed on my stomach, in the position that didn't strain my wrists. Damn those handcuffs. I was too busy crying to notice Sam removing my boxers.

He waited for a while before spanking me. I don't know if he was trying to make me nervous with the delay, or just wanted to give me time to collect myself. If it was the second, then it didn't work. I wanted to recover quickly from my latest bout of sobbing and be stoic all through the spanking, but it wasn't working out well for me. I just got more scared and cried harder.

I don't know why I was so scared. It was just a spanking; it wasn't going to even really hurt, surely. I'd never been spanked without my power removing all the pain and stuff, but it was a kid punishment. It wasn't supposed to be serious. So I'd be fine. Yeah, definitely fine, totally not panicking here. The fact that I was hyperventilating didn't mean I was scared. I was completely calm. OK, so lying to myself wasn't very effective.

Sam pulled me up into a kneeling position, careful to keep from straining my arms against the handcuffs. So, that was something. It didn't benefit him to make sure the sharp edges weren't digging into my skin, so he was actually being considerate, almost. Maybe Sam could still be redeemed if I could find a way to escape and regain my power. Yeah, like that was ever happening. I was trapped, completely at his apparently nonexistent mercy. The worst thing was that this was _Sam_. Even if I hadn't had a crush on him, he used to be the kindest person I knew.

My scrambled thoughts were cut off when his hand came down hard on my exposed butt. It hurt much worse than I'd been expecting. When I was a powerful archangel, I didn't care very much about the natural strength and durability of my vessel. I was just looking for a cute person who could hold me indefinitely with only a few spells for upkeep. Unfortunately, I'd selected a small, fragile human with almost no physical power. And now I was a small, fragile, powerless almost human myself, and the slap was a lot harder on me than it would've been on a more average guy. The pain spread through me with a horrible stinging sensation. I cried out. I couldn't help it. Tears stung my eyes.

Sam slapped me again. The pain was worse, although at least it didn't take me by surprise. The hits came more frequently after that. They blurred together in a daze of pain. But then it wasn't just pain, either. I'd never been interested in this kind of thing before, but the growing sensation in my lower belly was distinctly arousal. Which was really bad.

It hurt enough to make me sob and scream, so I should not be aroused. And, what if Sam noticed? What if he- I started hyperventilating in sheer terror. It was covered up by my cries, so I didn't think there was any risk of Sam noticing.

However, I was naked from the waist down. Well, unless you count my socks, which I didn't. So I needed to kill my erection before it grew to the point where Sam would see it, cause there was nothing to cover it. I thought maybe if I focused on the pain, it would hurt enough to stop whatever stupid reaction my body was having to being spanked.

But the sensual, sickening agony of having Sam's handprint being dug into the bruised flesh on my ass again and again had the opposite effect from what I'd intended. My cock swelled. A particularly vicious hit made me moan.

The hits stopped, signaling that Sam had noticed my arousal. I whimpered.

"What the-" Sam said, startled.

He didn't say or do anything for a minute. I got nervous, and my erection hurt. My tears were still falling, though my pillow was soaked with them. I squiggled unhappily.

Warm fingers traced up the side of my cock. I bucked my hips, whining helplessly. And then the fingers were gone. Even as I sobbed in relief, I felt horribly deprived. The stupid part of my mind that I wish would go die had wanted Sam to hold me down and fuck me. The rest of my mind was in agreement that suffering was much better than being fucked by my captor. That was the worst thing that could happen to me now.

Out of nowhere, Sam's hand came down hard on my abused backside. I cried out in shock and pain. He'd been spanking me for ages, and I was sure I was black and blue by now. It certainly felt like it. The hits came fairly steadily for a while, hard and fast. I tried not to think about how my dick was swelling more with every slap of Sam's hand. The pleasure was soon nearly as great as the pain.

My tears slowed and nearly stopped. I was gasping, writhing and moaning, making sounds like the bottom in a BDSM porno would make. I should know; I've starred in a few. The pain felt so sexual- I found myself rocking back against Sam's hand as he hit me.

I lost the power of coherent, conscious thought. I spread my legs like a cheap whore, moaning desperately.

"Please," I whined.

Sam stopped slapping me. "I didn't know you had a pain kink," he complained.

"Please, please, please, Sammy, please," I begged, too dazed to even know what I was begging for. I whined, circling my hips.

Sam hesitated for a moment. Then his hand came gently to rest on my sore bottom. He massaged a little with a circular motion. The pain of even a light touch on the bruises was horrible, but it just turned me on more. I moaned again, pressing up against his hand. His other hand brushed against my cock. He jerked me off with a quick, rough rhythm. I came hard, screaming from pain, pleasure and overstimulation.

Streaks of my cum decorated the sheets below me. I would've collapsed and fallen in it, but Sam caught me roughly. He was strong enough to hold me in the air while removing the dirtied sheets. He set me down on the bed and walked away.

Clarity eventually returned to my mind, and I cried from the horror of what had happened. I couldn't even really say he'd raped me, because I was begging him for it. At least we hadn't gone all the way. Just to third base. The worst thing? It was the hardest orgasm I'd had in years. And I got it from my captor torturing me.

What was wrong with my head? How on Earth and all the other planets had that been arousing?! This never should have happened. I felt so dirty and ashamed. I cried myself to sleep that night.


	3. Chapter III

_I was standing in a dark alleyway between tall buildings. It was clearly daytime, but the sky was dark with thick grey clouds. The wind was strong, and I couldn't help shivering. I felt nervous, like someone was stalking me._

 _I turned and peered into the darkness behind me, but my fragile, powerless eyes couldn't see through it. I hurried forward, hoping to get away from that paralyzing feeling. But however far I went, I felt like someone was following behind me._

 _I was too afraid of the sense I was getting to pay attention to what I was walking into. A woman was holding another person against the wall. There was a pool of blood on the ground. The woman let go of the other person, who slumped forward and fell to the ground. His eyes were open, staring forward blankly. A fanged bite mark on his neck dripped with bloody saliva. He was dead._

 _The woman stood above him. I guessed she was a vampire. Her slightly open mouth dripped with blood, and a bit of what could've been human skin was stuck between two of her fangs. If I was still an archangel, I'd have instantly smote her and not worried about it. As it was, I trembled and took a few steps backwards. How did humans kill vampires again? My mind came up blank._

 _I didn't know what to do. I'm not human enough to even have their protections on me, and I don't have any added power to make for it. I don't have survival instincts, I can't get an adrenalin rush, I'm not quickly adaptable, etc. So I walked backwards, tripped over my own feet, and fell over._

 _I started crying, because falling like that_ hurt _. It probably wouldn't've hurt a normal person enough to make them cry, but my pain threshold is low and I was already strained emotionally. Of course, the angry vampire standing over me threateningly wasn't helping._

 _And then someone stepped past me, and I knew instantly that he was the person who was stalking me in the alley. He drew a weapon of some sort, I couldn't see what it was in the darkness, and fought with the vampire. I scrambled backwards and away from the fight, my tears still falling. It was a violent fight, and I was afraid that either of them could hurt me unintentionally. Or intentionally._

 _I wasn't sure who I was more afraid of: the bloodlust filled vampire, or the dark man who'd followed silently behind me in the alleyway. I wasn't sure if either of them would leave me alive, given the choice. I was hoping they'd destroy each other and the victor would be too hurt themselves to care about hurting me, but I knew it wasn't likely._

 _My stalker's weapon connected with the vampire's neck and sliced through it. I could hear as the blade cut through the her muscles. Blood spewed around them as the vampire's head came off and dropped to the pavement with a dull thud. The body fell as well, sliding over sideways and dropping into a puddle. Muddy, bloody water splashed._

 _The man who'd been stalking me crouched in front of me. I finally saw him well enough to realize who he was. Sam. My breath caught in my throat. I leaned backwards, cowering away from him and covering my face. I waited for pain. It didn't come._

 _A few heartbeats later I opened my eyes and lowered my hands. Sam offered me a hand up. After a moment's hesitation and uncertainty, I took it. He pulled me to my feet and steadied me when my knees threatened to collapse._

 _"_ _What are_ you _doing in my dream?" Sam asked, but it didn't sound like he wanted an answer. "This was a pretty routine vampire hunt until you showed up."_

 _I shrugged. "Th-this is a dream?"_

 _"_ _Yeah," Sam said. "Odd you don't know that, being a part of it."_

 _I was a little confused. If this was a dream, then my dream Sam thought I was a part of his dream. So whose dream was it? I gave up the question._

 _"_ _O-ok," I said. "Where are we?"_

 _"_ _I don't know," Sam said casually. "It's just a dream. Probably no coherent place." He smiled at me. "Don't worry about it."_

 _I ducked my head, thinking. Then I looked up at him, tears shining in my eyes. "Please, do you hate me?" I knew the answer was yes, but I had to hear him say it. Not that I wanted to, just that I needed to. I needed to know._

 _Sam didn't answer immediately. "You've never asked that in a dream before," he said, considering for a moment. "I didn't hate you when we first met. You were cute and funny. A little annoying, but I liked you. And then you were just another monster. Dean killed you, and I didn't think any more of it. And then Dean started dying-" Anger shown in Sam's eyes, and he looked more like he had recently. "I_ hate _you."_

 _I backed away from him. Why had I asked him that? It hadn't helped at all. A tear trickled down my cheek. "I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I wish there was a way to fix this."_

 _"_ _Well, there isn't," Sam snapped. "You can't change the past." He punctuated his words by hitting me repeatedly._

 _I fell over and cowered against the street. A little of my blood flowed onto the ground. I think it was from my nose._

 _"_ _Stop it!" I begged, holding my hands up in a defensive posture._

 _"_ _You didn't stop hurting Dean!" Sam yelled. "You never stopped! And I tried everything. I begged, I prayed, I cried, I screamed, I held out this stupid hope that someone would care enough to make you stop! And you know what good it did me? None!"_

 _I cowered away from him. He was so angry. And he should be. He was right. But- I couldn't handle it. And I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I didn't know how to get Sam back. The normal Sam. The compassionate man who cared so much._

 _I got up and ran away from him. It didn't do me any good; Sam's legs were longer than mine, and he was in much better shape. He caught up with me before I could go ten paces. Sam tackled me and we both fell to the ground. He lay on top of me, pinning me down._

 _I shivered, terrified. "Sam, please," I whispered._

 _"_ _There's no justice in this world," Sam said. "All I've got is revenge."_

 _And suddenly I pitied him. I'd been so busy being terrified and hating him for how much he'd hurt me that I hadn't thought about what a horrible position he was in. All Sam had left was revenge against me, and revenge is worth less than nothing._

 _I got one hand free and brought it up to rest against his cheek. "Sam, listen to me," I said. "Revenge will only hurt you in the end. You have to let go."_

 _Sam pulled away from me. "I wish you weren't in this stupid dream," he snapped. "Or I want to wake up."_

 _"_ _Th-then just walk away and l-leave me alone," I retorted weakly. "Just go!" I turned away from him._

 _"_ _No," Sam said coolly. "You need to feel pain like I did when you made me watch my brother die, over and over again." He grabbed my upper arm, hard enough to leave bruises. I cried out. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd hurt me, but I was too new to all the changed sensations of being graceless to hide the pain. "You know what, Gabriel? You're fun to hurt." He kicked me in the crotch, and I gasped in pain, doubling over._

 _I curled up in a ball to try to defend at least a part of me from him. I fought to hold back tears of pain and hurt. This was horrible. And Sam wouldn't even leave me alone. He grabbed my upper arms and forced me to stand. He was so much stronger than me that it wasn't even hard for him. He dragged me up and pulled me against him, almost like a hug. But it wasn't gentle or loving. It felt like an attack._

 _I shivered and tried to pull away, but he was too strong. I didn't want to even use my full strength, so he had no problem keeping me there. I guess I just wanted to make sure he knew I wanted to get away._

 _"_ _I wonder if I'd be able to give you Stockholm Syndrome," Sam mused. "I know it doesn't count since this is a dream, and you're just an idea in my subconscious, but I wonder if I could." He slapped me hard across the face, then dug his nails through my cheek._

 _I tried to jerk away from him, crying out in pain. "What's wrong with you?" I demanded, struggling with my tears again. I didn't want to cry, even if it was just a dream. "Just let me go! This is stupid. I hate it."_

 _"_ _No." Sam tightened his arms around me. Not painfully, just enough to make sure I couldn't even think of escaping._

 _And he had a point. Maybe getting Stockholm Syndrome would be a nice break. I could just stop fighting him and relax for a bit. But I'm too ridiculously stubborn, and it wouldn't work anyway. I'm too attached to the beauty Sam's soul used to have to settle for this broken version of him. He's not himself anymore, and I want the normal Sam back. I want to look through his chest to that glowing, beautiful soul with all it's light and love_ Sam. _Not this mess._

 _Sam pushed my chin up so he could have better access and kissed me. With my mind filled with memories of hours spent watching the old Sam's soul and daydreaming of his lips against mine, I couldn't make myself realize that this was the present, darkened Sam kissing me. I melted helplessly into him, kissing back passionately._

 _Sam pulled away. I stared up into his hazel eyes for a moment, catching my breath. And then his eyes hardened, and I stopped seeing the Sam I'd fallen so hard for. I realized I'd just kissed my dark, nasty kidnapper who'd tortured me, and I started fighting frantically to escape his arms. He wouldn't let go of me. I was too petrified to speak, or I would've begged him to let me go. I couldn't believe what I'd just done._

 _I slumped against him, not fighting anymore. There was just no escaping. Why did he have to be so much stronger than me? It was just- It was just stupid. Argh! I didn't bother to blink back a few tears, and they trickled down my cheeks to my chin and splashed onto Sam's flannel shirt._

 _Sam kicked my legs out from under me and somehow managed to set me on the ground. He straddled me, and I felt really nervous. I was instinctively sure the situation was going to be a complete disaster. Maybe because it was a threatening sexual situation. I started fighting to escape again._

 _Sam caught my wrists and forced them above my head. I shivered and tried to squirm into the ground. Obviously it didn't work. The pavement is a pretty solid surface. Hey, I couldn't exactly be logical in that situation._

 _Sam leaned over me and stared into my eyes. Caught more completely by his eyes than all the things he'd done to physically immobilize me, I stared back, frozen. I think he was searching for something in my eyes. I don't know what it was. I don't know if he found it or not, and I don't know if he even wanted to find whatever it was. He rolled off me, freeing my hands at the same time._

 _I didn't think to try to run away again. Whatever he'd done to my eyes had me pretty thoroughly mown over still. I sat up slowing, staring at him. He offered me a small smile that I didn't return._


	4. Chapter IV

**This is the chapter where it gets really dark. Be careful.**

I woke and tried to sit up. I couldn't. My wrists were still handcuffed to the bedposts. This time, I was lying on my back. At least I could see. It made it a little less terrifying, as I'd have a little warning if I was attacked.

My legs were tied to the bedposts as well, so I was stuck looking like a starfish, with limbs sticking out at the corners. And I was still naked from the waist down. That was scary. Couldn't Sam have at least had the courtesy to cover me with a sheet or something? This was horrible.

I wished I could cross my legs. But no, they were held open by the ropes. I was so exposed. Tears filled my eyes. I wished this was a nightmare that would stop. If it was reality, couldn't it at least be livable? Wasn't that a common courtesy the universe could show its residents? This wasn't livable. I wasn't ok.

Sam walked in. His hair was mussed, like he'd just been sleeping. He rubbed his eyes and blinked at me for a moment.

"Gabriel?" he asked tiredly.

I tried to scowl at him, but the memory of him straddling me in my dream came to me and took the edge away from my expression. I tried hard not think of how he'd pressed against me and I'd been so locked in his eyes- damn it! I was not getting hard. Absolutely not happening.

The tears in my eyes got dangerously close to spilling over. Why did I have to be so exposed? My brand new mortality left me so fragile and vulnerable already, and now I wasn't even dressed and couldn't hide it when my lower brain kicked in. It was _horrid_.

"I had a weird dream," Sam commented, sitting down on the bed beside me. "It was sort of a mix of a vampire hunt and following you down an alley."

I froze. That had been _my_ dream. How had we dreamed the same thing? _Had_ we dreamed the same thing? I started fishing for information.

"Lemme guess," I sniffled. "You got to beat me up in the dream, just like reality?"

"A little," he said casually. "Not as much as last night."

I shuddered and turned my head away from him.

"I just scratched your cheek and generally roughed you up a bit," Sam continued. He pulled my head back towards him and ran his fingers along my cheek where I could remember his nails tearing into my skin.

I shivered and tugged helplessly against him. We had dreamed the same thing. How?

Sam did have some psychic powers from the bit of demon blood Azazel had dripped in his mouth as a child, but the power was supposed to be dormant. And it wouldn't make sense for that to manifest in dream sharing. There had to be some other connection.

"I kissed you in the dream too," he said suddenly. "I wonder-"

Sam leaned in and pressed his lips firmly against mine. I let out a shocked gasp, and his tongue slipped into my mouth. Sam was kissing me. In the real world. It was a million times better than in the dream. It was also a million times worse, because I kept my head for it. I knew the entire time that I was desperately, passionately kissing him that this was the dark Sam who hated me, not the gentle Sam I loved.

He pulled away, studying me coolly. Had that meant anything at all to him? More tears filled my eyes, but they still didn't spill over. "Your mouth tastes the same as it did in the dream," he noted. "Strawberries and sugar."

I shivered and turned my face away, a single tear tracing it's way down my cheek. "Stop," I pleaded.

"Stop what?" he asked, carding his fingers through my hair.

"Stop going back and forth!" I cried. "It's horrid of you. Just pick whether to beat me up or kiss me. I could live with either one."

"So, if I freed you now, you'd be willing to just forgive and forget. Live as a human, stay in crappy motel rooms and date the hunter who beat you up and tortured you." His tone was teasing.

I stared at him. "No." Maybe if he'd been serious, if he'd really wanted that, maybe then I'd have agreed. I didn't know. I probably would've. It sounded like a dream to me, and I couldn't help wanting it.

I don't know what I wanted. Everything got so complicated when my long term crush captured me, stole my grace, tortured me, and then started kissing me and saying confusing things. I have no idea what to do about anything anymore.

"J-just go away, will you?" I asked. "I know you h-hate me."

"I've been dreaming of this revenge ever since you started killing my brother," Sam said. "I'm not going to just 'go away' now that I've got you in my power."

I turned my head to look at him. "Can't you- can't you just go back to the normal Sam before the whole Mystery Spot debacle?" I knew it was futile, but I had to try. "I-I liked that Sam. He was nice. And- if it could all go back to normal- I never meant for it to go this far. Sam, please."

"He's gone," Sam spat. "He's never coming back. You killed him with those Tuesdays."

It was the Wednesday that broke him, though. I knew that. He survived the Tuesdays, because he knew Dean would come back, time and time again. And then Wednesday came and Dean really, permanently died. I was sorry. I wanted to take it back, but I couldn't. And I wasn't sure if it would matter to him even if I could anymore. This went so much farther than I'd ever, at my worst, wanted.

"I don't believe you," I said, as strongly as I could. He had to be in there somewhere. I had to find a way to bring him back.

He struck me across the face, hard enough that I was sure it would leave a bruise. It wasn't gonna be pretty, not that that mattered. Only Sam was going to see me, and it was his fault if I was black and blue all over.

Sam got out a serrated knife. I groaned. Serrated knives made such awful, jagged cuts. And it would take a lot longer to heal since I had a human level of power. I hadn't even thought about the pain.

Sam carelessly cut my shirt off with the knife. I was terrified that he'd slip up and cut me, but he didn't. He ripped free the pieces of shirt, leaving me completely naked and chained to a bed. Normally it would've been sexy- but this circumstance wasn't at all interesting like that. At least that was an improvement. Torture was bad enough without Sam watching me get more and more aroused the whole time.

He started tracing lines of burning pain into my skin with the knife. It was agony. I screamed and thrashed against him, which just made the pain worse and worse when the knife cut deeper than he'd intended. He didn't seem to care.

The pain burned and stung and seemed to overwhelm my whole being. I was starting to wish I'd been easier on certain of my victims. Pain was so hard to deal with from a mortal level. I couldn't think. Breathing seemed almost impossible and I could only gasp shallowly. Sam was too skilled with the knife.

At some point he stopped. I think he was worried I'd die if I lost too much more blood. I could breathe and think again. It was such a relief, even if I was still in agony. I looked down at my torso. The jagged lines he'd cut into me formed words. There was too much blood to read them, but I could tell they meant something. I doubted it was kind.

Blood flowed red and fresh across my chest and onto the pale cream sheets in some places. In others it was already dry, crusted onto my skin in all it's gory, rust colored glory. It looked awful. I was surprised I was conscious. Then again, I know almost nothing about the human body's limits. I knew my head felt funny and it was a little hard to see things clearly. I guess maybe that's dizziness. I let my head drop back against the pillows.

Sam was studying me critically.

"What're you looking at?" I demanded angrily. "You think just because you can torture me it gives you the right to stare? Ogle your own bloody bruises."

"I have the right to do anything I want to you," Sam said harshly. "I won it automatically when I defeated you. I'll stare as much as I want." His eyes traveled down to the bloody mess of my chest and farther.

"Just because you can do something _doesn't_ make it right," I argued. "Torturing me like this is wrong. Maybe staring isn't really morally objectionable, but you get the point!" I was flustered. If he'd stopped staring at my dick, a part of me I very much wished to keep private under these circumstances, maybe I'd have been calmer. I felt so exposed and helpless, and I couldn't handle this right after torture.

"Cuz you've always stayed out of questionable areas morally," Sam snorted. "I don't care about your dumb angelic standards of right and wrong anymore."

I would've scowled if I wasn't so flustered and miserable. Why did my lower brain have such an attraction to being handcuffed and exposed? And Sam staring at me was just making it way worse. "Can you at least cover me with a towel if you're going to be horribly creepy?" I asked.

"What would be the point of being 'horribly creepy' be, then?" he asked me with a smirk. "It's obviously the most effective torture with you."

"No," I begged. I could survive being cut, but not being- messed with. Not like that. "Sam, please."

"Every time you beg me not to do something, I remember begging you to stop killing Dean," Sam said angrily. "And you never stopped. So guess what? I'm not going to stop either."

He reached down between my legs. I'd been expecting him to go for my cock, but he came up with something worse. He started rubbing his fingers against my asshole. I shivered and flinched, trying to pull away from him. The chains wouldn't let me.

"Sam, stop," I pleaded.

Sam pulled back for a moment, sticking his fingers in his mouth to dampen them. And then his hand was back, and he pushed a finger into me.

I desperately tried to yank myself away from him, and started crying. The time he jerked me off had been bad, but this was so much worse. He was _in_ me. This was the start of the worst way he could possibly violate me. I didn't want it. This couldn't happen! It _couldn't!_ Please.

"Get out!" I cried. "Stop." My voice was reduced to a whisper.

His finger slid most of the way out of me before pushing back in, farther this time. He crooked his finger and wiggled it around. And it felt so good. And so horrible. I bit my tongue to hold back a lewd moan even as I cried from how violated and dirty I felt. This was my worst nightmare- on steroids.

Sam pushed in another finger, and it burned. I cried out. He scissored his fingers, opening me farther.

"Don't," I whimpered.

He paid no attention. His fingers wiggled around, exploring the inside of my ass. He brushed lightly against my prostate. I screamed. I hadn't meant to, but I couldn't help it. I had been planning to be silent throughout the torture, but that plan never seems to pan out. I keep ending up screaming or moaning or both. This was a both kind of day.

He brushed against my prostate again, and I moaned. I was too weak to hold back my reactions anymore. I was building towards orgasming untouched. That would be devastatingly embarrassing.

Sam pushed in a third finger and pressed hard against my prostate. I sobbed and whined. It was horrid. I wanted it to stop. "Please stop," I begged in between whining and moaning. I felt so dirty. How did this happen? How?!

Sam started finger-fucking me, slamming into my prostate with almost every stroke. It was an arousing agony. I gasped and groaned, reacting to his every tiny movement. I was completely helpless and at his mercy. I wished I was dead. It would've been so much less painful.

Against my will, my incoherent string of pleas for him to stop became a string of desperate pleas for more and deeper torture. I bit my tongue, but it didn't do any good. I was just bleeding from my mouth as well as my chest.

I don't know why it happened. Sam was focused on what he was doing to my butthole one moment, and then he was looking up at my face. Something changed for him in that moment. He pulled his fingers out of me and ran from the room. His face was like he'd seen a ghost. Well, not really like he'd seen a ghost. That wouldn't have phased him. Maybe like he'd seen Death? No, that probably wouldn't really shock him either. I'm blathering, aren't I? Anyway, Sam ran from the room in a panic.

I was left chained thoroughly to the bed, completely naked and spread open and with a throbbing erection. It was awful. At least he was gone. Maybe he wouldn't come back. Except then I'd die here. I had no way to escape. But dying didn't seem so bad. I felt so- dirty and worthless and just awful. I never wanted to have sex again. I just wanted to not have to exist anymore. Please, somebody kill me. Please.


	5. Chapter V

The next time Sam came in the room, he was completely silent. His face was pale and his eyes were empty.

"Sam?" I asked, voice wavering.

He didn't answer. He just carried a bowl of water and a small towel over to me and started daubing the blood off my chest. It hurt, but it wasn't all that bad. I was able to keep from whimpering. I tried reading the words as they were uncovered, but my angle was bad and they looked upside down. I could only make out evil and worthless. He'd cut insults into my skin. I sniffled and turned my head away from him.

Eventually he finished cleaning and bandaging the cuts he'd given me. He covered me from the waist down with a blanket and left.

I sighed, staring up at the ceiling. That had been survivable. Sam being quiet was scary, but I knew he'd helped me, even if it hurt a lot. I couldn't quite wrap my head around that. He'd done something to me that hadn't hurt me or violated me, and he hadn't said anything mean. It wasn't normal Sam coming back or anything, but it seemed like maybe a step in the right direction. Maybe.

Sam came back in, this time carrying a tray with soup, a sandwich, and a glass of apple juice on it. Wait, if I'd lost my grace, did that mean I needed to eat like a human? I thought about it. My chest hurt enough that it was hard to tell if my stomach hurt from hunger, and my throat was painfully dry. My eyes stung like I guessed a dehydrated human's would, but I've never been a human and I don't know exactly.

Sam undid the handcuffs on my wrists. "Eat," he ordered.

I struggled, trying to sit up. I was too weak and it hurt too much. Sam had to help me sit up. My face burned with humiliation. I didn't want to eat, but I didn't dare defy him. I didn't want to lose whatever speck of goodness had somehow reawakened in him.

My hands shook, but I managed to lift the glass of apple juice and drink from it without spilling. The flavor was different from how I remembered. I didn't like it. The texture, though- it was incredible. My throat felt so much better. I gulped down the juice desperately, fast enough that some spilled down my chin and dripped onto the bandages on my chest. I was disappointed when the glass was empty.

I cast a guarded glance at Sam to see what he was doing. He was just sitting there in his chair, watching me. His eyes were dull, and he looked almost scared. It was confusing. I looked away from him and picked up the soup spoon. I tried to get a spoonful, but my hand wouldn't stop shaking and the spoon just dripped back into the bowl before I could lift the soup enough to eat it.

The sandwich was easier to eat. Hard, because Sam was still watching my every move, but manageable. The food was good but settled heavily in my stomach. My throat felt dry. My hands were steadier, and I managed to eat a few spoonfuls of the soup. I didn't feel hungry, though, and I gave up. I didn't have anything to do, so I just sat there.

It was a while before Sam broke the silence. "I don't know what I'm doing." His voice was hoarse, like he'd been crying.

I just stared at him silently.

"I didn't mean for-" Sam cut himself off and looked away. He stood, took the tray from me, and left.

In Sam's absence there was nothing for me to do. I was too scared of being caught to see if I could get my ankles out of the chains, and that left me stuck sitting or lying in bed. I didn't want to mess with my bandages, and I certainly didn't want to mess with the blanket over my legs. That was staying there for as long as I could possibly swing. I didn't know what I'd do if Sam took it away.

Eventually I fell asleep. I wasn't all that tired, but there was nothing else I could do.

…

 _I was in a forest somewhere. It was night, but the pretty kind of night, not the scary or creepy kind. I looked up and could see stars through the leaves. There was no moon, and it was dark. In the distance a wolf howled. The wolf was too far away to worry about, I guessed. Wolves could be dangerous for me without my grace, but it was pretty unlikely to be a problem._

The stars glinted. They were beautiful, but there was something mocking about them that I'd never seen before. I didn't like it, because I felt like they were laughing at me for being so close to human. It wasn't fair; it wasn't my fault I'd lost my grace! I felt cross and a bit scared, and stupid for getting mad at a bunch of stars.

 _A twig snapped behind me. I turned around; it was too dark for me to see. Anything could've hidden in the shadows of the trees. It was hard, not knowing. I wasn't used to it. As an archangel, I'd been able to easily see where everything was and exactly what was happening. There was no darkness too severe to see through. Now just the mild shadows of the trees were too much and I was helpless. It felt awful._

 _"_ _Uh, hey!" I called, trying not to sound nervous._

 _There was no spoken answer, but another twig snapped._

 _I swallowed fearfully. "Come out," I ordered. My voice shook. Why did it have to be so easy to get scared now that I was graceless?_

 _I heard footsteps, and another twig snapped. A very tall person stepped out of the darkest shadows to where I could mostly see him. Sam._

 _I squeaked and tried to jump backwards away from him, tripping over a root and landing on my butt facing him. My breathing sped up as I panicked. Why'd he have to be here? He was gonna be scary again, I just knew it._

 _"_ _Gabriel." His voice was dull. He sat down next to me on the ground, shoulders slumped._

 _"_ _What do you want from me?" I demanded._

 _"_ _I'm sorry," he said. He lifted his hand, reaching up to cup my cheek._

 _I froze and couldn't move away. There was a big part of me that didn't want to, anyway. I was still scared and angry, but he'd said sorry and he seemed sincere. He was still beautiful, and he looked like Sam. The Sam from before, the one I wanted. Why couldn't he just be nice?_

 _Sam's hand dropped, and he turned away from me. "I still feel so guilty, even in a dream," he complained._

 _"_ _Well, you should," I told him, cross and shaking._

 _"_ _You hate me, I guess," Sam said softly._

 _"_ _Uh, no," I said, almost confused. It was so out of the range of what I could imagine feeling. Hatred for Sam? What?_

 _"_ _The real you hates me."_

 _I stared at him. "You really think that, Sammy?"_

 _"_ _Duh." He laughed bitterly. It was the kind of laughing that's just barely not crying. He might've been crying. He scowled miserably at me. "You're not even realistic. I thought my dreams could do a better job."_

 _It was my turn to laugh. I was pretty sure this was another of the shared dreams, like we'd had earlier. He didn't know about that, of course, but it was still funny that he thought his dream was unrealistic in its portrayal of me when I was just really, honestly myself._

 _"_ _So you care if I hate you," I noted._

 _"_ _No!" he snapped angrily, "I hate you. You killed Dean a hundred times, and you made me watch! I hope you hate me." He hid his face in his hands and started crying._

 _He thought it was a dream, so I could do whatever I wanted. I reached up and carded my fingers through his hair. It was smooth and silky, and I loved the way he leaned into my touch._

 _"_ _Gabriel…" Sam's voice was broken._

 _"_ _It's ok, Sammy," I told him, petting his hair. I don't know why I wanted to comfort him so much. It's probably that stupid crush. But those gentle, miserable doe eyes…_

 _"_ _You should hate me," he sniffled._

 _"_ _You should know by now rules aren't my thing," I said, trying to sound casual and in control, "I don't hate you, kiddo, and I'm not gonna."_

 _And suddenly he was hugging me and crying, and I couldn't help my shocked squeak. Casual and in control_ really _isn't working for me this week. There was too much contact with him, and after all the abuse at his hands earlier it was terrifying. It startled me awake, I guess, because I woke up a few moments later._

…

I was alone for a few hours after I woke. There was nothing to do, and it was boring, boring, boring. I was feeling less scared after how vulnerable Sam had been in our dream, and the lack of fear was making it really obvious how BORING being a prisoner was. Why? Somebody come torture me or something, I'm _bored_.

Sam walked in, and I froze. Was he gonna torture me? I started hyperventilating. His face had that hard, cold look from before. I'd hoped he was done being scary and horrid, but this wasn't looking good. And he was carrying a needle.

I could've really taken some boredom right about then.

He approached me with the needle, face impassive. I sat up nervously. Maybe if I talked, he would get distracted and forget to hurt me. "Hey, Sammy! Great to see you. This whole prisoner thing is getting a bit old, huh? Whyn'tcha lemme go, we call it even and forget this whole thing happened? It'll be so much more interesting! We can eat candy and stuff!" Needles make me so nervous.

"You talking is getting really old," he snapped.

"Uh, I'll just- shut up, then," I said, shivering. Needles. Help.

Sam climbed onto the bed and knocked me onto my back. He straddled me. I whimpered.

"What are you doing?"

He leaned down to answer me, whispering in my ear. It could've been romantic in another context, and even as it was it made my heart beat faster to feel his breath on my cheek. "Shutting you up."

Was he planning to kiss me? Cuz I would totally object, but- not _totally_. And it'd sure as hell be nicer than being tortured or assaulted.

His lips were close to mine, close enough to feel his breath and his heat. His pupils were a touch dilated. Mine probably were as well. He gave a weak laugh, and then pain stabbed through my mouth. I screamed and threw my head to the side, which just made the pain worse. Pain from what? What was happening?

Sam pulled my head back to where it had been. His hands were warm on the sides of my face, and I took a bit of comfort from that. How sick is that, to get comfort from my captor while he does whatever awful thing he's doing? But it hurt so much, and his hands were big and warm and gentle and felt safe, even if I knew all he'd really give me was pain.

"Sam?" I asked pitifully, "Ahhh. Whazz happening?" Every word hurt.

"Just a needle." There was more pain. Lots more pain, that went on for ages. I was crying, but there was too much pain for me to feel the tears. I couldn't see very well through the dampness, and snot clogged my nose and made it hard to breathe.

I tried to talk, wanting to beg Sam to stop or at least try to find out what it was he was doing. I wasn't sure what I would've said, but it didn't matter. I couldn't get my lips apart, and trying made pain shoot through them. I screamed brokenly with my mouth closed. It hurt, it hurt so much. I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe- I fainted.


End file.
